Concert Reviews

Forty people, maybe fifty, is not really enough people to blend in. That was the first thing I noticed on Saturday at Bar Le Ritz PDB, where Charlie Chimi was opening for L'Eclair and everyone was standing a bit too far apart. The mugginess of the wet summer day was undoubtedly a contributing element in this.

For more than two decades, Kurt Vile has carved out a space as one of indie rock's most distinctive songwriters. Blending folk-rock and slacker charm, the Philadelphia musician has built a devoted following with a sound that is both deeply introspective and effortlessly loose. Backed by longtime collaborators, The Violators, Vile has also earned quite the reputation as a live performer. His shows never sound rushed or over-rehearsed, but unfold naturally. Songs stretch and evolve beyond their studio versions, making even longtime fans hear them differently.

It is difficult to describe South London-based post-punk quartet Dry Cleaning without falling into cliché. One might be inclined to compare lead vocalist Florence Shaw's deep voice and spoken word style to someone like Courtney Barnett or Cate Blanchett. Some refer to Shaw’s previous job as a university lecturer to explain the tidiness of her stage presence. One might allude to the band’s clean, driving basslines, their stream of consciousness lyricism, or their technical proficiency as a group. What I will settle on, and what I only realized at the very end of their set, was that I had spent all two hours of my time supposedly reviewing Dry Cleaning’s concert dancing, with not a single note taken.

“How do you say ‘I’m pregnant’ in French?” Lillie West of Lala Lala asked us, “It’s probably like ‘I have’ or something,” the indie singer had just impressed us with her mediocre yet competent French. The audience chimed in with various pregnancy phrases, “yeah, I have that,” Lillie confirmed. Despite being four months pregnant while on tour, Lala Lala delivered a captivating and emotionally laden performance at L’Escogriffe on a chilly Sunday night.

I hold a belief that a good concert can solve any bad day, and Maryland-based rapper Redveil once again proved it. Because even after fumbling an engineering test, I still had a fantastic night. 

Two nights ago, I learned that freedom floats through musical decades. When I was younger, I could find it within the hearty bellows of texan-native Janis Joplin. As time passed in the lyrical world, freedom filled its walls with reflections of blistering rhythmic palettes. 

As I neared Studio TD on Saturday night, slightly dejected by the temperature being minus twenty with the windchill (and reaping the consequence of my mediocre layering), I was met with a glowing sign which displayed “Sudan Archives se soir a 18:00h”. Underneath, a line wrapping around the block of people bundled up, like me, trying to shield themselves from the absurd temperature. However, there was a distinct anticipation and excitement radiating from the groups who waited in line to enter the venue. I was in the right place tonight.